


The Physicality of Love

by WhumpTown



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: Touch Starved Aaron Hotchner
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner & Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner & Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner & Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
Comments: 10
Kudos: 142





	The Physicality of Love

Aaron Hotchner was knee-high to his father the first time he suffered the consequence of his physical proximity. For existing in the space that someone else did. He learned nothing from this interaction. How could he? At three-years-old his only care in the world should be the slow progression into “big boy” underwear and figuring out which book he wants to be read at night. 

Not cowering from his father’s too tight grip around his wrist. 

But he learns quickly that people don’t want him around. 

That never changes. 

“What are you reading?” He tries not to jump as Emily comes from behind the curtain that separates the kitchenette on the jet from the sitting space. He’d seen her disappear back there but he’d become immersed in the book before him. Not giving her a second thought. So, when she’d rounded the corner unexpectedly his heart rate spiked. That primal fear of someone in his personal space being set off. 

Forcing even, steady breathes as she inches ever closer he has to wrap his mind around what she’s asked. After a moment, he holds up the cover of the book for her to see, knowing she’ll recognize the cover. She had gotten him the book for Christmas. Garcia had them do Secret Santa this year but they’d managed to get one another. She’d come up with the idea with a book swap. 

She smiles at him, a beaming smile that’s so warm he feels it in his own chest. “Slaughter-House Five,” she says with a nod of approval. She takes a seat beside him on the couch, curling her legs underneath her with the ample room he’s left sitting as close as physically possible to the wall. “You enjoying it?” she asks, offering him one of the two mugs of tea she’s made. 

He’s trying to conceive thoughts– but he can’t. He’s taken aback, the air knocked from his lungs, and reason captured from his mind as he takes the mug she’s handing to him. No one makes him tea. 

She takes a sip out of her own and grimaces. “This is the wrong cup,” she mumbles. 

She switches his mug for her own and this time she nods her head after she sips it. As if it’s nothing at all for them to drink out of cups after one another but… Well, he supposes, that is more or less true. It’s nothing for Emily. She does it with all of the others. 

He’s seen her do it with the other’s plenty of times. Sipping the coffee she’s made specifically for Morgan before handing it to him. Splitting a sandwich with JJ. This is nothing to her but… what is it to him?

He’s pulled from his thoughts as she kicks her boots off, wrapping the blanket they keep draped over the side around her shoulders. As she’s moving she ends up leaning close to him but she doesn’t so much as blink when they bump shoulders. 

She yawns, around her hand she asks, “how are you still functioning?” 

He blinks down at the book in his hands. She’s got a point. They’ve worked two serial killers back-to-back hunting kids like sport. Luring them from their rooms to just… He sighs and he realizes he’s exhausted. When was the last time he ate? He can’t even… this tea is going to be the first thing he’s even had to drink in days. It’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out. 

“Get some sleep,” Emily reaches over and squeezes his hand. Her thumb brushing over his knuckles. 

When she pulls away he slowly pulls that hand to his chest, stretching out the shaky fingers. It’s weird, strange. When was the last time anyone held his hand let alone gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze? 

When he looks back over, slowly but poorly recovering from the touch, Emily’s already curled back into a ball and sleeping. He looks down and her feet are tucked against his thigh, just casual touch. Like it’s nothing at all. The most natural thing in the world.

The jet lands two hours later and he doesn’t move an inch. He just sits there. 

From then on out he notices the way the other’s interact. 

Garcia smacks Morgan’s shoulder, kisses Emily’s cheek, and squeezes Reid’s arm. The casual affection amongst them is so easily shared. He sees Emily squeeze JJ’s hand the same way she had his. The way they share smiles like jokes and touch like… like nothing. They don’t even flinch. 

But this one observation allows him to see that he’s wrong about his initial leanings. They do it to him too.

JJ has a tendency to walk close to him. The first time he notices it, she brushes hands with him twice and ends up running into his shoulder. With time, he realizes she only does it to him. 

“It’s freezing–” she comes up from behind him. The only warning he gets is the crunch of snow under her boots but with everyone walking around and the sun having set hours ago she surprises him. He doesn’t see or hear her coming.

Without comment he tugs his fingers out of his gloves, offering them to her. 

She shakes her head, “no, Hotch.” She pats his bare hand, trying and failing to get him to take them back. 

“JJ,” he says, lowly and this time, with a sigh, she takes the gloves. Raising his eyes back to the crime scene, he doesn’t see her hands slip into his gloves. 

She sighs at the warmth that they provide. “Thank you,” she mumbles, knocking her shoulder against him. His gloves are nice but leaning against him is even nicer. Given that they’re frozen– quite literally– in this spot until the scene is cleaned up it’s not a bad idea to get comfortable. And she is comfortable, tucked against his side. 

He looks over at her in surprise. He’s not surprised by her proximity. That, he gets used to. It’s nothing for JJ. She brushes against him as she passes. A hand on his shoulders when she’s moving behind him or bicep when she’s trying to get his attention. What takes him by surprise is how relaxed she is and… the way it doesn’t bother him at all.

Together, backs to the wind, they keep warm in the face of the freezing night.

It’s not just JJ and Emily though.

Emily’s got this habit of stacking her legs over his. He doesn’t mind it but it’s certainly strange to have a leg, or both, kicked up on to his. With time, he starts to expect it and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips when she does it. It’s their thing.

JJ stops calling his name when they’re sitting close. She’ll just reach over and pat his arm, showing him whatever it is. She doesn’t do it to anyone else. It’s their thing, too.

Derek is who takes him by surprise. As to how they went from “Drill Sergeant” and “Agent who doesn’t trust the members of his team” to arms slung around Hotch’s shoulder and congratulatory fist bumps… he has no clue. 

Sprawled out on his back, Hotch can see the stars high above his head. Thick, heavy smoke clouds billowing out above and fogging up what should be a clear night. A perfect night, really. Pulling in a pained breath, his chest hitches when the smoke hits the back of his throat. He grunts in pain, hips twisting as his chest heaves and his lungs burn as he works to expel the air.

Two hands reach out and Hotch’s head spins as he’s pulled upright, his chest limply falling forward into the body in front of him. Derek. He can feel the younger man’s tense muscles, hear his voice calling out when Hotch is unable to initially answer him back. Everything about the muscle dense arms wrapping around his back and the hand cupping his neck– of course, it’s Derek. 

“Come on, man,” Derek pleads. There are tears pooling in his eyes, making his voice thick with emotion. He squeezes Hotch’s body. “Say something!”

Hotch rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, sinking into the comforting feeling. To be held, even if it’s in the middle of a street. He manages to lift his head, turning it so he’s not speaking into Morgan’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he rasps, “I’m okay.”

Morgan squeezes him tight. “I thought you were dead,” he rasps. “You–” Morgan pulls him back, his hands working over Hotch’s sore chest. Hotch winces and Morgan’s movements become much more controlled, easier as he probes the area Hotch is failing to protect from Morgan’s hands. “Sit still,” Morgan warns, his voice deep as the sound comes from the back of his throat.

Hotch… listens. He deflates, leaning back into Morgan’s shoulder and letting him press on. He tries to fight the exhaustion wearing him down but he can’t. It’s definitely passing out but he leans into the warmth of Morgan’s body and gives in to the darkness creeping into his vision. Giving in and letting Morgan just hold him. He’s too tired to fight it.

He only has to stay in the hospital for a day. They can’t do much for his re-ruptured eardrum besides painkillers and a sedative for the jet-ride home. Not that he’s supposed to be on the jet either but they’re making due. He needs to get home sooner rather than later.

The worst part is that his hearing is gone. Unless the ringing counts. 

Reid is trying to tell him something. From the looks of the way the genius is speaking, Hotch thinks he’s supposed to do something with Reid but he doesn’t understand. He can’t hear the instructions and he’s still tired and the ringing in his ears–

He blinks dumbly down at his hand when Reid huffs a sigh and just grabs his hand. He follows where he’s pulled and, he finds, Reid smiling back at him. Good, he thinks, this is what Reid had wanted. Together, Reid lets Hotch set a staggering pace for them. Occasionally, Reid will squeeze his hand and pull him in a different direction but Hotch’s head is still recovering from a nasty concussion so he needs all the help he can get escaping this maze of a police precinct.

Reid doesn’t let go of his hand until they get outside and then it’s only for a moment. Reid puts both his hands on Hotch’s shoulder, making sure his attention is with the genius before Reid motions that he’s going to get the car and that Hotch should stay right where he stands. 

Hotch does.

When Reid pulls up with the car, he’s beaming. So happy that Hotch stayed right where Reid told him to. 

Hotch smiles back. It makes him feel good. When Reid steps out of the car, Hotch offers him his hand and Reid takes his hand without a second thought. Even if they both know right where they’re going. 

On the jet, he’s given the couch but he stays sitting upright instead of laying down.

He’s exhausted but he also knows that laying down is going to make his head hurt and laying any way but on his back is going to hurt his ears to the point of tears.

Crouching down in front of him, JJ squeezes his bicep to get his attention. She flips the notebook in her hands around for him to see what she’s written: “You have two pills to take, do you want tea or water?”

He shivers as the air kicks in above him but struggles to decide if he should verbally confirm or just point to the words. So, he looks up around him, his cheeks flushing as he whispers, “water.” 

JJ nods her head and reaches up to pat his cheek affectionately. 

No sooner than she’s gone is she replaced by Derek and Dave. Armed with a thick blanket– one that Hotch knows has been pulled out of someone’s go-bag–, a heating pad, two pillows, and the pills he’s expected to take they offer him small comforting nods. 

Derek places both pillows down on the side Hotch’s is closest to and just as he does, Emily comes up behind him. The two argue– Hotch watches with a strange fascination. She’s trying to show him how to lay the heating pad down, the two arguing over her tactic compared to what Derek thinks is best.

Dave interrupts them with a finger pointing to the cockpit. 

Hotch shakes with his confusion, anxiously shifting as the others take their seats around him. There are a few sympathetic glances but no explanation. Not until Dave comes to stand in front of him and starts to buckle the lap belt around his hips. 

The jets taking off. 

He can feel the jet start to shake and he keeps his lips tightly pressed together, so he doesn’t make a sound and give away the fear causing his hands to shake. Unable to hear, he’s uncomfortably aware of how much the jet shakes as it takes off. 

Dave takes his hand. 

Hotch’s knuckles turn white with his grip on Dave’s hand.

JJ crouches down beside him and Hotch realizes that he’s not only crying but his head is now resting in Dave’s lap. She offers him her palm, two pills resting in the middle and in the other 

His head feels like it’s trying to split apart as they grow steadily higher into the air. He can feel a cry of pain leave his mouth and Dave reaches over and pulls him tight to his chest. Dave places his hands over Hotch’s, both planted firmly over his ears. 

With his head tucked into Dave’s chest, there is a slight reprieve from the intense ringing in his ears. It’s just the smallest difference but it’s better than nothing. 

He knows they’ve balanced back out when Dave starts rubbing his back. The hot sting of his tears falling down his cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed but he hurts too much to bother to care about them. 

The amount of guilt that they all feel is immense. His doctor had amply warned that the pain would be unbearable if they didn’t get Hotch unconscious before the jet took off. His ears simply can not stand the pressure change and the added pain of his concussion… They had one job and now he’s suffering because of them.

JJ tips the water bottle back when Hotch takes a minimal sip from it to swallow the pills. He scowls and tries to push the bottle away but she presses on and he looks displeased but takes a good drink from it. She kisses his forehead for his compliance and he can’t help the small smile that spreads across his lips. 

With nothing in his stomach, the sedative works fast. 

He fights it a little too long and finds himself swaying with exhaustion he can’t fight.

A hand wraps around the back of his neck and he limply follows it. His face pressing into someone’s side– Emily. Her fingers scratch at the back of his head.

Someone else wraps a blanket around him. Reid, he thinks. That probably means it’s his blanket too. Actually, it has to be Reid’s blanket. No one else packs a blanket. 

Emily removes her fingers from his hair and he grunts at the loss of contact. 

Dave pats his shoulder and Emily pushes him upright. He hunches down into himself, swaying without the stability of someone to hold him upright. After a second, Derek holds him upright by the shoulders while Dave and Emily get the couch set up a little better. 

Gentle and steady, Hotch lays down on the couch. 

He’s asleep within seconds. 

The team plans ahead this time and Dave sits on the edge of the couch as the jet descends. He takes Hotch’s hand, rubbing over his hand when Hotch shifts in his sleep, wincing. “Shh,” Dave moves his hand through Hotch’s hair, soothing him back to sleep.

They don’t wake him until they’re all packed up and ready to get off themselves. 

He’s too groggy to fight too much so it’s not hard for Derek to hold him close and set a slow and easy pace down the stairs. They’re met at the bottom of the jet’s stairs by Garcia and a wheelchair. As much as he’d like to put up a fight, the stairs are beating the hell out of him and he’s really just falling down them with Derek’s help. 

It’s cold in Virginia. 

In nothing but his white undershirt, the autumn breeze is wreaking havoc on his bare arms. Derek hadn’t let him put his suit jacket or even his dress shirt on when he’d checked Hotch out. But now, as Hotch’s teeth chatter, there is a jacket wrapped around him. It’s not his own but he recognizes it’s Derek’s immediately. 

There are only two people who own leather jackets in his unit and that’s Derek and Emily. This one smells like cologne so he’s assuming it’s not Emily’s– a good point of commonality is that Derek and Emily both wear the same old spice deodorant. At first, he’d found this odd but now it’s kind of funny. 

Garcia frowns at him, worriedly checking him over for wounds she can’t see. Just as she gets close to his very sore ribs she stops and, thank God. Hotch can vaguely hear the rumble of a deep voice and he assumes it’s Derek advising her to leave his sore side alone. 

Gently, he lifts his chin into the palms she presses to the sides of his face. She smiles down at him. With her right hand she points at her chest: “I”. She draws a heart over her chest: “love”. Then she turns it around and pokes his chest with a grin, “you”.

He smiles. His own response comes out slurred from the medication still in his system and his inability to hear his own voice but Garcia understands his clumsy, “I love you too.” And he’s still smiling when she plants a kiss on his forehead.

The affection doesn’t end there. 

He learns to reciprocate. 

It starts with Reid because he knows and understands the genius. 

“I don’t understand,” Reid says, turning to Hotch expecting the older man to cave and explain Morgan’s rather vulgar statement. 

Hotch shakes his head, “you don’t want to, buddy.” 

Reid pouts and Hotch can’t stand the sight so he reaches over and rustles his hair. It’s enough to lift the corners of Reid’s mouth and the genius bumps his shoulder with Hotch’s. There’s no definitive, verbal proof but Hotch knows Reid liked it so he does it again. Adding pats to Reid’s shoulders and, the occasional, hand placed between his shoulder blades.

With the other’s he learns to mirror them.

He sits close to Emily, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye when he kicks his feet up. Waiting for her to kick her own up. She always smiles when she realizes what he’s doing. He likes that and he likes it, even more, when she puts her files away and pulls out a book. Then they sit shoulder-to-shoulder, legs stacked and read. Sometimes she even puts her head on his shoulder and ends up falling asleep. 

He doesn’t mind sitting still so he doesn’t wake her.

JJ is pretty easy too. She just likes leaning against him so he makes a habit of standing behind her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. It’s not that hard to pick up on when she wants to lean and when she’d rather not. Typically, it’s as a case is winding down and as the adrenaline fades and the end nears. 

They stand in the precinct or in the middle of the woods with her leaned back against him. Silently, they watch. 

The first time Hotch offers Morgan a fist-bump, he laughs and quickly bumps his fist against Hotch’s. It’s highly amusing and it doesn’t matter how many times they do it, Morgan never gets tired of it. 

Garcia is the easiest by a landslide. 

He just hugs her and lets her hug him. She’s very tactile and it takes him the longest to get used to but after a while, he starts to look forward to their hug after a case. It relieves his stress and it’s amusing when she pulls him down to her height so she can properly give him a good squeeze. 

It takes a few years to really break him of this habit of keeping himself distant. 

People do want him around. 

People miss him when he’s not around. 

His favorite thing, though, is when they seek out his comfort.

Derek smiling when Hotch pats his shoulder, silently asking if he’s alright. 

Reid sitting beside Hotch on the jet and drawing his legs into the seat and watching until his eyes droop down and his falls to Hotch’s shoulder as Hotch does paperwork.

JJ pulling him into hugs before he even realizes he needs it.

Emily raising an eyebrow and showing him her book to ask if he’s in need of a break. 

Dave’s hand on the back of his neck or his shoulder, a small smile as they pass. 

Garcia’s smothering hugs. 

He’d always thought physical touch as a love language was overrated. He just didn’t know the right people, is all.


End file.
